


PBS fics

by ArdenInTheGarden



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Illness, Injury (mentioned), peachblossom au, peachblossom syndrome, surgery (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdenInTheGarden/pseuds/ArdenInTheGarden
Summary: My contribution of fics to the Peachblossom AU!





	1. Check-Up

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what you're seeing, consider joining the official Discord server dedicated to it!
> 
> https://discord.gg/R34dxrR

It was so difficult to walk around the Habitat anymore. Elliott slowly made his way through, mask pulled over his mouth and nose to shield himself from whatever this was spreading by. They had yet to determine airborne, skin contact, bodily fluids--they had no clue, and frankly it drove him up a wall.

He stopped in front of the door of the next person he was here to visit. A child. He steeled his nerves before opening the door and peering inside.

She was lying on the floor, her face to the sky and soaking up the sunshine. As soon as he shut the door, she struggled to her feet, scrambling to pull her jacket over her body. "Why're you 'ere?" Her voice was rough, hardly more than a gutteral hiss. Even through the infection, she still retained her jarringly Cockney accent, her speech marking her as foreign both to the country and to the world she now found herself in.

"I just came to see how you're doing. Are you feeling okay? You haven't left your room and we've been getting worried for you." He pulled on his shirt collar, hoping it would alleviate the choking guilt that pressed on him from all sides.

" 'm fine." She spat, wrapping her jacket tighter around herself defensively.

"Of course. May I see your flowers please? They're very pretty." He swallowed hard, hoping to get his heart out of his throat and back into his chest where it belonged.

"No! You're gonna take 'em 'cause you're jealous you 'aven't got any!" She hissed, a horrifying sound as she practically collapsed to all fours.

"But I have got them!" Silence. "Don't tell anyone, but if I let you feel them, would you believe me?"

She was silent a moment longer before getting back to her full height. She looked almost like a ragdoll as she wobbled over, and he knelt to meet her.

"Here, let me put your hand over them. Then you can feel." She still made soft grunting sounds, and flinched at his touch, but she allowed him to do as he pleased. He prayed there was still something inside her to be saved.

With all the gentleness he could muster, he slid her little hand over his chest, wincing at the horrifying feeling of his skin being pulled on as the petals shifted and were ruffled. Her eyes widened, and he saw her expression change to one of bliss and relief.

"Oh! Oh you ARE one of us! You can come sit with me in the sun! Feels all warm an' soft an' perfect! The sun cuddles wa up your belly and makes your flowers all pretty an' 'appy!" She looked overjoyed enough she might cry, and he did at the sight.

"Yes. I-I brought you something. Do you remember this?" He carefully took her hand back, and pressed a stuffed animal into her grasp. The stuffed cat was the only thing she had come with, and the day they found it abandoned on the floor was the day he promised he would find a cure if it killed him.

Warren analyzed it, squishing it between her hands. "No. 's not a flower, isn't important." She tossed it onto the ground before retreating to her sunny spot on the floor. "My flowers're awfully pretty, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah they're--they're beautiful." He swiped viciously at the tears that streaked down his face and snatched the stuffie up from the floor.

The door closed behind him with a deafening click, and he smothered a scream of agony and guilt into the faded orange plush. He hadn't been religious for a long time, but he swore to a God he didn't believe in that he would find a way to help that poor child.

His nose twitched, and he turned sharply aside to sneeze openly toward the floor. Arthur smelled cloyingly sweet, and where Warren had held it it was now stained with pollen. It shouldn't surprise him that flowers might pollinate, but this was the first he had seen of it. He couldn't help himself from bringing it back to his nose and taking another deep inhale. It was so sweet, a saccharine dream flooding his senses briefly.

Once again, he snapped to the side to sneeze viciously. He sighed, swiping at his nose with the back of his hand. There was something undeniably alluring about the scent, but for now he had other things to focus on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official Discord server: https://discord.gg/R34dxrR


	2. SURPRISE!!!

The air in the Habitat was thick and sweet, the pollen filtered out and the funny product filtered in. Warren slowly got to her feet, grunting as her bandaged limbs protested. Her clothing had been confiscated, and she was wearing a silly little dress that had little ties on it. It was much too long, but she like tying the string into ribbons and twirling like a princess.

She had felt bad for a long time, but she was better now, she thought. That’s what they said at least. The biggest disappointment was that she had missed her birthday during all of this. It was a TRAVESTY! A fucking CRISIS! An absolute DISASTER! You only turned nine once, after all, and missing it because she was sick was awfully disappointing. But maybe getting better was a present.

She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, of course! She really and truly was trying to use her manners! But...maybe a dollie or a pretty dress or candy could have been a present too.

The knock on the door startled her, and she got to it as quick as she could. “What?”

Habit winced at the greeting, but did his best to shrug it off. “Hello, Warren. Are you--would you like to come sit with us in the lounge? We have a surprise for you.”

She didn’t react much to this, giving a small shrug and offering her hand to him to be taken. “ ‘kay.” She didn’t really feel very excited right now. It was hard to be awake much now, and she was cold and sleepy all the time.

The pair slowly made their way down to the lounge, Habit holding tightly onto her hand and keeping another ready in case she were to fall on the steps. She wasn’t a helpless baby, of course, but she was still so small and frail looking, especially covered in all of these bandages like this. There was more bandage than exposed skin on most of her arms and legs, and all across her stomach and chest, and it broke his heart to look at it.

Habit led her down to a table, sitting her down at it with a nervous smile. “Are you ready? For your surprise?” She thought this over before sighing softly and nodding. She was sleepy and didn’t wanna be awake just yet.

“SURPRISE!” She jumped at the sudden noise, flailing and attempting to strike at the figures suddenly materializing in her awareness.

“Whoa, whoa! Hey, come on, it’s fine!” Parsley flinched, resisting the urge to threaten to sue her. “We’re not going to hurt you! We--Habit said it was your birthday--?” He couldn’t sue a kid but he could at least sue Habit or something. False advertisement or something.

“I didn’t bake a cake for nothing, it’s someone’s birthday today. Kid? Boris? Pars? Who’s it gonna be? I can’t afford to get any older but one of you’s about to.” Jimothan was leaned against the bartop, holding a rather pathetic looking cake on a plate. There appeared to have been a poor attempt at writing on top of it, but it had all bled together into a mass of extra icing.

“...OH! No, it’s--my birthday was a couple o’ days ago! It’s for me!” Warren wasted no time wobbling over towards the sound of his voice, wrapping her arms around his waist in a half-huf half-stabilizing action. She hadn’t been the one walking around for a long time, and getting back to it was difficult.

The bartender-turned-doctor-turned-back-to-bartender-turned-chef stiffened at her embrace, and looked desperately to the others for guidance on what he was supposed to do. They all either shrugged (thanks Pars) or gave an encouraging nod, and he awkwardly patted the kid on the back. “Right. Go, uh, sit down. When all of this is over I’ll enroll you in sports or something for your...energy.”

She obliged, jogging back to the table as best she could and sitting down at it. She slammed her fists on the table repeatedly, shouting “PRESENTS!” every time. If they were giving her a birthday she was prepared to be showered in presents and adoration and be the princess for a day.

Habit swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked at the others. Perhaps their party wouldn’t meet her expectations...no! No, he couldn’t think like that! Even if they lacked much in the way of presents, they still had company, and her clothing back, and Jimothan had even made a cake--if one could call it that, of course. “We couldn’t get out to get you presents, but we have cake, and soda, and we’ll sing for you! Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“...yeah.” She deflated, but tried to still smile at least a little. This was more than she was going to get otherwise, and Arthur could help her get presents later when they went...somewhere else. They still didn’t have a home, but that was fine. “Can I...can you sing now?”

“Of course! Gentleman?” The Botches looked less than pleased to engage, but did so nonetheless.

Every hair on Warren’s body stood on end the instant they started. She had never once in her life heard a sound so horrendous. Even with three of them at once, not a single note managed to be on-key. Habit wasn’t even singing in English. Jimothan was at least an entire beat behind. Parsley was at least an entire beat ahead. “Okay! Okay, thanks!” She cut them off in the middle of the song, having heard all she could tolerate.

“You didn’t...like it?” Habit sounded crushed, and she winced at his tone. “It’s no matter. It’s not a problem! It’s fine! Don’t worry. Jim, the cake please?”

Jimothan grumbled something under his breath about “kids these days” but set the plate in front of her anyway. “Dig in, sport.” A fork clattered to the table beside her, and she took it hesitantly.

It was possibly the worst cake he had ever eaten before, but she was hungry, and she didn’t wanna make anyone sad, so she ate it dutifully. Later she could tell Dr. Habit it wasn’t good and not to let that guy cook anymore, but now was neither the time nor the place.

All in all, this wasn’t a bad birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official Discord server: https://discord.gg/R34dxrR


	3. Research Notes

The item in your hands is a faded leatherbound journal. Inside, ELLIOTT MARSH, RESEARCH NOTES is scribbled. It appears to be the journal of one of the floral people that shamble around the terrace to soak up sunlight. He never told you his name, but with coaxing some of the researchers admit with great pain that this was his. It's been entrusted to you in hopes that his writings can give you enough insight for the breakthrough that is desperately needed.

2/23/1994

Something is going on. Some kind of infection is spreading. The city said it was a skin infection, but it seems to be getting worse. The CDC has personally been investigating--awfully official for just a skin infection. I don't know, I suppose I'll keep an eye on it. Since I journal every day anyway (thanks Dr. Fischer!), this is something to add in.

3/1/1994

It's been a week, and things only seem to be getting worse. The growths on people's skin don't look like they're slowing down at all, and they're getting bigger. The woman on the news being loaded away by people in hazmat suits looked almost furry with it. She was the first known case, and is the worst I've been able to see. Research is scarce at best, but hey, sometimes a journalist can be some barber in his apartment?

3/30/1994

I'm getting scared. The woman on the news from the beginning of the month hasn't been heard from. The researchers aren't seeing reporters or outside doctors. No one gets in, no one gets out. Someone died trying to get the truth, and people are panicking. They had their camera seized but a picture from it was leaked. The woman was covered in what looked like flowers. I'm starting a new journal dedicated just to this--I'll tear out the pages from the first two entries.

5/13/1994

Things are getting out of hand. The city is in a panic--Hell, the whole country is losing its damn mind! We're all SCARED and no one's telling us anything. I only leave the apartment to try and conduct research, but everything's gone to Hell. There's a group I've joined, all amateur researchers of varying backgrounds. Right now it's just me, a bartender, and a dentist. Here's hoping we're more successful than fully funded and trained research facilities.

6/7/1994

We've set up base in a place known as The Habitat--the most abysmal and post apocalyptic name for a camp if ever I've heard one--and brought a few people in that are infected in the hopes of studying them. They gave us permission to do whatever we please as long as we try to help, but it makes my stomach turn to imagine experimenting. Perhaps this too will change. No one knows what the future holds.

7/1/1994

Experiments aren't going well. A few people seem to be immune. I'm not. I can see them starting to grow on my skin but haven't told the others yet. I just need more time to figure things out, and there are people far more advanced than me that need tending to. Hell, we've got CHILDREN to look after. Until it becomes too much or we find a cure, I intend to keep it a secret. Wish me luck, Journal.

7/10/1994

It's been 2 weeks since I first saw the spots appear. I can tell it's spreading, and they're starting to blossom on my chest. It's getting harder to move, my entire body feels weighed down and feverish and foreign. My mind is intact, but fear is a Hell of a drug.

7/23/1994

It's hard to hide them. They're opening on arms and chest. It's getting harder to write, keeping to smaller sentences. Sick and heavy and hurts. Body doesn't feel mine.

8/2/1994

They know. Mad. Spread to whole body. So pretty. Skin so painful. Unsure how it spreads. Infection? Don't know.

8/?/????

**POLLEN**

8/?/????

Boris keep notes find cure save Warren SORRY

The journal ends there. At the end the dates have become illegible, and the writing looks laboured and scrawled in thick, dark letters, as if the act of writing was excruciatingly difficult.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official Discord server: https://discord.gg/R34dxrR


	4. Sunday Funday

Parsley watched the children running around, waving a plethora of makeshift weapons and--Christ, was that a crutch? He'd have to step in and take that away.

...eventually.

He turned to the man supposed to be in charge of this chaos. Jimothan was asleep in an armchair, arms crossed over his chest and head dipped forward as he dozed.  _ "Let 'em have fun, Pars,"  _ he had said,  _ "I'll watch them for you." _ Yeah right.

"Dad.  _ Dad _ ." He nudged his father's arm, the older man sitting up with a start. "Are you watching them or should I send them back to their rooms?"

"I'm watching, don't worry." And he was! Sort of. He was stuck with the incurable dad disease of getting tired every time he sat down somewhere even a little comfortable, which included this armchair. "You worry too much, Pars. What's the point of the apocalypse if you don't get to take a break every now and then?"

"Dad I don't think that's how it--"

Millie screaming cut them off, a bloodcurdling sound as she stood over a felled Gerry with her golf club raised. "I AM THE VICTOR!"

"It's not fair, you're like bleventeen years old!" He wiggled under her grasp, trying to get out from beneath the boot that held him down against the ground.

"Sorry, kid. You lost, fair and square." She shrugged, lowering her club and leaning against it like a cane. Putunia sat glowering in the background, having also lost it seemed. Tim Tam was...somewhere. Parsley was unnerved to not know where they were, but not surprised in the slightest.

"Are you playing fairly? You are a lot older than then, after all." Tiff was resting against the bartop, watching them with a faint smile. "It'd hardly be fair if I were to play, just like you have to make sure to be fair to them."

"I'm always fair!" Millie looked offended by the mere notion that she would cheat. The two younger children looked skeptical of this claim, but didn't say anything.

"Well! Maybe we've had a little bit too much fun for one day. Why don't we all head up to our rooms and wait for supper?" Jimothan stood up, his joints creaking and protesting that they had to be used.

Parsley shepherded the children up the stairs, ignoring the chorus of reasons why they should get to play longer and how it wasn't even that late yet! After they were all safely out of earshot, Jimothan poured himself a beer and a glass of champagne for Tiff. "What are we celebrating tonight, Tiff?"

"Mm...tonight we celebrate being parents." She clinked her glass against his, taking a long sip and watching him from behind red-tinted lenses. "He loves you, you know."

"I know."

She slowly lowered her glass to the bar. "And he knows you love him, too."

"I know."

"Then what are you running from, Jimmy? Who have you got to prove yourself to?" She slipped off her glasses, making direct eye contact with the older man.

"Myself. I--hm. I know I wasn't the best dad to Parsley. And I know I could have done a lot better. He's a good kid--er, man. He's a man now, and a better one than I ever was at his age." Jimothan ran a hand through his hair, trying to choose his words carefully. "I've got another chance to be a good father. These kids? They don't have anyone left. They could use a dad, or at least an old man trying playing pretend at one."

Tiff smiled, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards as she placed a hand over one of Jim's. "And that's what makes you a good one."

"Thanks, Tiff." He swirled his glass a bit before tapping it against Tiff's once again

. "To parenting."

"To parenting."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official Discord server: https://discord.gg/R34dxrR


	5. U wot

Warren had heard all about the flowery stuff going on. She heard that it was awfully lovely, and made people happy even if they were a little bit sick. She had been sick before, so it didn’t sound too scary! She could take care of herself, real and true, and Artie was a good boy to help. Things might have been scary for other people, but nothing scared her!! But...it might have been a  _ little _ spooky. It made her tummy feel full of butterflies, crawling around inside her with their little feet, and she didn’t like it.

People stopped being out places, and it made it easier to live in her little spot by the bridge which was nice. It was sad to not know where they all went, but things were nice and quiet now, and everything smelled...nice. It smelled like when someone mowed the lawn, like grass and big,  _ big _ bundles of flowers! She liked things a bit better like this, she decided.

When she felt the first little bitty buds on her chest she stopped feeling quite so brave. They were itchy, and she didn’t like how they felt rubbing underneath her dress. Warren’s fingertips were often occupied picking at them, trying to get them off so she could feel good again.

It had been...well, she wasn’t sure how long it had been since she had last heard someone, but it had been a long time! Things were quiet, until suddenly someone yelped underneath her boots. She sprang back, waving a stick like a weapon for defense. “Oi!” They didn’t respond, but she felt a hand snake around her ankle and pull her closer.

“Help me.” They whimpered, and so did she as she tried to break free of their grasp. It didn’t take much to get back away from them, and she was trembling with fear as she tried to speak. They got to their tongue first, their voice a crackly whine. “Habitat. Going...to the Habitat.” What in all Hell was a Habitat? “Get help.”

“You  _ wot?” _ She crouched down, resting her chin on her knees as she listened to him speak. It was hard to understand some of it, and this was awfully dodgy, but she felt like she had to at least listen to the bloke since she had stepped on him and all. Although, it  _ was _ his fault since he wanted to have a little kip right here on the ground.

“Habitat?” He repeated, and he sounded like when the little kids would ask their mums for silly things. Not like her, of course. She was very old! And strong! And BRAVE! She was SIXTEEN! She was a  _ GRANDMOTHER! _

“Like the places that bugs an’ such live?” She poked at him with her stick, jabbing at whatever she could find of his body. She didn’t know if this bloke was really alive anymore, or if he was like a garden man all covered in the butterflies from her belly. Maybe the flower people weren’t bad?

“Find the doctor.” He gasped, choking on the effort of remaining coherent. He smelled horrible when he wriggled closer, the air full of the smell like old leaves being slopped out of the gutters. Mouldy and icky and wet.

He stopped talking after that. She stopped asking questions. What had all the adults always done? They prayed, but she didn’t know the words, or who she was supposed to be talking to. She left her stick with him, seeing as it was all she had to give. Maybe someday she’d find out what the man wanted, but for now she just wanted to go back “home” and sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official Discord server: https://discord.gg/R34dxrR


	6. Ouch oof ow

Elliott laid still, even as one of his crutches was taken away. He was too tired to move. Too sad. They had taken away his flowers, what more did he have to give? They could have his crutches too. He had nowhere to go now anyway.“

Why’re you sleepin’?” Warren was crouched over him, resting her elbows on her knees with her brows drawn thoughtfully together. She rocked the crutch from side to side, holding it tightly between her sweater-pawed hands and chewing on the inside of her cheek. “ ‘s daytime already.”

He didn’t look up, his cheek pressed against the floor despite the searing pain from all of the bandages that crisscrossed his skin like a road map documenting his trip to Hell and back. He was cold and empty and ugly, and not even the voice of a child made a difference on his mood. “Tired.”

“I can wake you up.” She offered, though it wasn’t much of an offer. She didn’t await a response before straightening up and readying herself. This was a  _ brilliant _ idea, and one that was  _ bound _ to succeed. She was a rather clever little thing--maybe even the most clever-est of all time.

With a grunt she swung down the crutch with all her might, slamming it into his body and raising it over her head again. He yelped like a kicked puppy, but she heard absolutely nothing otherwise. He was still on the floor, then. She’d have to try again.  _ “Get up!” _ The crutch made contact again, and again, and again, and aga--

“What are you doing!?” She was pulled back, wrapped in a tight and restraining hug by the sad little lawyer man. “Jesus, kid, what are you, an animal? Go see my dad and get a juice box or something!” Parsley huffed, struggling to contain the kid. Warren hissed and struggled but was thankfully able to be shuffled out the door without any further incident. “Hey, are you alright? Kamal’s coming by soon to check on you, but I can wait until then if you need anything.”

“He hit harder than her.” The already bruising man mumbled from his perch on the floor, the sounds of scraping against the floorboards accompanying his words.

“...huh?” Parsley slowly turned to face him, all the other things he had to do later momentarily forgotten. All the hair on the back of his neck was prickly and on end as he watched the younger man slowly roll and begin the arduous process of trying to haul himself to his feet.

“My brother. He hit harder than her.” Blood was seeping through the bandages, now, leaking from the lines of stitches. He threatened to come undone at his freshly added seams. "She's strong, though."

Parsley was silent, watching him as he wobbled and swayed, leaning heavily against the one crutch he still retained. His voice cracked as he attempted to speak, unable to speak and grateful for the extra half a second to think of what to say. “What’s his name?”

Elliott looked at the lawyer with tired, vacant eyes that still retained the yellow tint and slitted pupils indicative of the infection. “Why do y’all pretend to care all of a sudden?” He touched one fingertip to a patch of bloodied bandage, regarding it with disinterest.

“What do you mean “pretend”? We always cared!” Parsley looked offended by the notion, racking his brain to figure out what had given the impression they hadn’t cared for him. Sure, they had been a bit distant, but surely he had to understand that they had to take proper precautions when it came to dealing with the infected, especially those who had just recently undergone surgery!

“None of y’all cared until I wasn’t useful anymore.” His voice was cold and callous, but there was underlying sadness beneath his words. “No one...no one noticed I was sick until I wasn’t helpful. And then you hauled me off, and took my flowers, and now I’m ugly and useless and--”

He fell into sobbing as Parsley pulled him into a hug, fighting back tears of his own. “You hid it from us! We tried and you denied it, and there was nothing else I could do. I was--” Parsley took a shuddering breath, trying to steady himself and hold back his emotions enough to give space for the recovering man to have his own. “I was  _ scared _ when you collapsed. I thought you were going to be gone like Martin, because I didn’t do something fast enough.”

Elliott only sobbed harder, clutching Parsley as tightly as his damaged hands would allow him to. “I should’ve, I ain’t gonna be handy to y’all anymore. I’m not worth nothin’ to anyone.”

“And you don’t  _ HAVE _ to be! All we want is  _ you _ , not a tool! You’re not a cheap pen, you’re a human being, we’re not going to throw you out like trash as soon as you don’t think you’re going to be helpful to us.” Parsley was slow and methodical in the way he rubbed a hand over Elliott’s back, careful not to pull on his hair or rub too hard and hurt him. He was crying himself at this point, but that wasn’t the point.

It took another few minutes until the barber had calmed down enough to attempt to wipe at his face and slump tiredly against the lawyer. He was exhausted, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open anymore. “I love you.”

Parsley’s blood ran cold at the statement. This certainly wasn’t how he expected to hear those words again for the first time since Martin’s passing, and he looked down at the man whose cheek was now pressed against his chest. Hopefully he didn’t hear the way his pace quickened as everything within him thawed just a bit more. He wasn’t ready to love again, certianly, but he was getting closer to being able to hear those words again without fear and guilt. “I...thank you.” Perhaps that was a bit harsh.

It took another ten or so minutes before Elliott had drifted off to sleep, allowing Parsley the opportunity to (painstakingly) slide him onto the floor and slip out of the room. Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to devour him from within. Perhaps they had been using him more as a tool than a person. It was difficult to remember to care for the people behind the critical roles they didn’t know how to replace. They were short-staffed, and had been since the beginning.

“Oh, Parsley! Are you--oh shit, what happened?” Kamal looked up from his clipboard, setting the plate of food and water bottle down from where he had been juggling them in order to free up a hand to put on his companion’s shoulder. “Did he hurt you?  _ Fuck! _ I knew it was too early to let him be unrestrained! I’ll call Habit and we can--”   
  
“Kamal, we failed. Leave him alone for now. We all need a break.” Parsley gently squeezed the hand that held him before brushing it off and walking stiffly back towards the room that served as the base of operations.

Kamal watched him go wordlessly. He wasn’t one to pry into the affairs of others, and Parsley wasn’t one to discuss things openly. Maybe when this was all over they could talk to each other like people rather than machines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Official Discord server: https://discord.gg/R34dxrR


End file.
